


For Research

by trascendenza



Category: Superman Returns (2006)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Humor, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-28
Updated: 2007-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time, Richard doesn't notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Research

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda cheesy, but nothing delights me more than the idea of erogenous zones in weird places.

The first time, Richard doesn't notice.

They were at a diner and he grabbed Kal's elbow to get his attention for something happening in the street; Kal balked, and excused himself to the bathroom.

The second time, he misunderstands.

He placed his hand under Kal's arm to guide him to the entrance of the White Mansion.

"They know we're more than just friends," he said by way of explanation, a little hurt when Kal jerked his arm away.

"It's not that." But Kal wouldn't say any more on the subject, and he forgot about it soon afterward.

The third time, Richard makes Kal come—completely by accident.

"So… close…" And he was, which was why he'd gone to brace his hand on Kal's elbow, fingers digging in. When Kal, whose mouth had been previously occupied, cried out at the pressure and trembled apart onto the bed, even through his post-coital haze, Richard started to get the general idea.

After that, he made an effort to respect the fact that Kal obviously didn't want to talk about it. There had been any number of opportunities for it to come up—Richard was never short on questions about Kal's Kryptonian side—so obviously the omission had been purposeful.

But after a few months of burning curiosity, of gentle attempts to broach the topic, well—he can't resist himself. Not at an opportunity this perfect.

They're at a dinner-slash-workparty. When it's on the company dime, it's on the company time, according to Perry, so even though they're at Michelle's, one the finest five-star restaurants in the city, they all have their Blackberries next to their plates. Jimmy just knocked over his glass while he was having a good-natured arm wrestling match with Gil for the last roll, and Kal's elbow is there in the air avoiding the water that's spilling everywhere, just begging Richard to reach out and give in to temptation.

_You shouldn't_, he tells himself, but even as the angel on his shoulder is practically shrieking for his attention he's grabbing a napkin and tossing it down.

"Here, Clark, let me help," he says smoothly, placing one hand on Kal's arm, using his napkin to forestall the water from seeping all over.

Kal looks at him, eyes wide behind his glasses rims, a more shocking blue than normal.

"Really, it's fine, I can—" Richard lets his finger slip up the seam in Kal's shirt where the fabric gathers at his elbow's join.

Kal swallows.

"But I insist."

He mops up the water very, very slowly, and the chatter at the table fades out of his hearing; all he can focus on is Kal, the way that Kal's face is flushed, how he's biting his lips and squirming in his chair. Richard lets his finger slide up and down the inseam of Kal's elbow, and he's not sure if it's his imagination, but it feels different than the rest of Kal, warm and clandestine, a secret that only they know.

Jimmy's apologizing, trying to help straighten up the tipped glass and dabbing at the table with his napkin; Perry yells something unflattering along the lines of _this is why we can't have nice things_ and Lois starts to protest that they shouldn't have to be juggling filet mignon and copy editing at the same time.

Richard lets his finger pause, and Kal mumbles something gracious and forgiving at Jimmy, but his eyes don't leave Richard.

Richard lets his auto-pilot take over, making a lame joke about the Planet and disasters with water. A brief laugh ripples through the table and the topic changes. Kal's arm drops onto the table as the attention turns away from them, but he doesn't try to dislodge Richard's grip; the way Kal's throat muscles are working, it's all Richard can do to keep from asking the waiter to summon the valet so they can get in the car right now and drive home. Kal's mouth has pinched into an unbearably erotic line.

But then he feels Kal's arm flex, just a bit, so he renews his attentions, sliding his finger faster, applying more pressure. His breath catches watching the rigidity that snaps through Kal's body—there's always a rush that accompanies seeing these changes, feeling Kal's pulse quicken at his touch.

Adjusting his wrist, he slips his middle finger up, as well, and uses his thumb to caress the rest; even through the fabric of the dress shirt, Kal's heat envelops his skin.

He recognizes the twitch in Kal's cheek, and whispers under his breath so only supersensitive ears will hear him, "you can tell me to stop anytime." He watches the flush spread down Kal's neck. "But…god, I hope you don't."

A quick breeze at his cheek tells him that Kal is leaning over and back too quickly to be noticed but enough to speak into his ear, "you can't stop, Richard. Not once… it's started. And—_aaaaah_—" Richard's thumb presses down, "it's so good. Don't stop. Please don't stop." Kal bites his ear, and he feels phantom hands ghosting over his painfully strained crotch.

They're definitely going to need that valet soon.

"Is something wrong with your food?" Polly's voice intrudes, and if Richard were the one able to shoot lasers from his eyes, the woman would have been dead on the spot. "You've hardly eaten." She's looking at both of them, her curly brown ringlets swishing as she tilts her head to the side with the question.

"Not much of an appetite tonight," Richard says, hardly seeing her, pressing his middle finger through a tear that just appeared in the fabric.

"_Fine_," Kal gasps, his other hand coming up to brace on the table. Richard senses it—wraps his hand around Kal's arm and grips as hard as he dares—and by the time the table is done shaking, every single glass of wine and water have been knocked over.

Everyone is looking around in shock, but miraculously none of their Blackberries have gotten wet, and Richard and Kal have their hands in their laps. Kal, in particular, looks dazed and confused.

Richard evaluates the mussed-up state of Kal's hair, the torn shirt, and the spilled drinks.

He stands, coat conspicuously hanging in front of his waist, and after some excuses that even a thirteen-year-old boy two hours past curfew would have scoffed at, they manage to make their way to the entrance of the restaurant, standing before the doors.

"I may just have to kill you for this," Kal says, dangerously casual.

"I don't blame you." Richard grins, offering his arm to Kal. "But it was so worth it."


End file.
